OOC Minecraft Username: TheHegemonCaller Are you at least 18 years old?: Yep yep! Have you read the rules? (Link): Yeah :)!(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?:  Heard it from some pals! (Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: MustCarryOn (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins):  Salutations and greetings! I'm Caller, I'm a veteran role player and avid lover of writing and talking about OCs. I enjoy creating, writing fanfic and I love werewolves. Please ask me about my OCs. (I write on ao3 under the same user for those curious.) — In-Character Read the following prompt: The rhythmic lull of hoofbeats are a marching drum to the small group of pioneers and variety of folk you have found yourself amongst, packed into a wobbling wagon. The rolling plains of the Southern Reach and a clear sky stretch out all around you, the buzz of excited chatter a dull wash in your ears as your mind strays to your former life and what has led you here to new lands. “Nervous?” You blink, returning to the present moment. A kindly older woman sat near you is smiling warmly with a crinkle to her eyes. “I can tell it’s your first time. Still remember mine,” she flashes a grin and leans in. “Tell me my dear, why have you come to the Reach?” How do you respond (in character)? (250 word minimum - please make sure to include at least three references to our lore in your response, with two coming from different pages in the Compendium.  Two of the three selected should also be in-depth, avoid simply name-dropping lore terms. Tie the terms into your character's backstory. Why are they important to them?) Why have you come to the Reach?  It's a simple question, Theresia reasons, the rain from before still clung to her hair, her cloak. It made her armor shine brighter than any of the Crowns she had paid to have it made prior to her leaving.  They had glittered when the blacksmith eyed the pouch over when she had held it over to him. A stout fellow, Boris? Or had it been Kenneth? She couldn't rightly remember the twin smiths identical even with the mild difference in how they carried themselves. No, she had been far more concerned about donning the armor, getting used to the weight of it; she had been training for this very moment since she was six, maybe seven.  The armor of a warrior, a squire no-more, she had earned her place amongst the realm. Metaphorically speaking of course, her journey had only just begun. Her story lied elsewhere, beyond the Wall. No she would not be joining amongst the soldiers, guardians and warriors of the Wall. Nor would she be following in her elder brother's footsteps, even if he had taught her all that she knew now: how to string a bow, how to tend to her armor, clean it, maintain it.  It was like a second skin to her. Every last bit of it, first it had been leather, then chain and now, half plate she wore.  Perhaps it wasn't the armor of those who protected the Wall, nor the uniform of the stone masons or any elaborate clothing or dressed her mother often shoved her into back when she was still under the impression that Theresia would ever stick around at the Wall.  It sang when she cleaned it, sang a song that she knew by heart. It was the song of her family: her mother's love, of her father's expectations weighing heavily yet familiar, of her elder brother's legacy, and of course, of her younger brother's laughter. She carried them here in her armor: a grouping of four stars, carved into the curve of the breastplate and woven into the hem of her cloak. The cardinal directions, but also each star signaling the four she had left behind. But the song it sang nowadays as she continued her journey towards the Reach… It was a song of something older, she reasoned, older and greater than her very being.  The Lady of the Lake, a story she had always been enraptured by since she was small, alongside of course, meeting knights that claimed to be blessed by the very legendary lady herself, spoke to her. Sang to her. Told Theresia to come and see, beckoned to her. To stake her claim upon the world outside of the Wall, the call and response of the hammers and the tools of the masonry, the merchants, the guardians…  No, the Lady of the Lake sang to her, Theresia reasoned as she flexed her gauntleted hands in her lap. That was why she was here, no? To prove her worth, to gain a boon, neigh an oath all for herself.  And perhaps that was selfish, but in truth, her place was not amongst the guardians of the Wall, or married to a mason nor pacing Crowns for goods and hawking wares… No. The Lady of the Lake, Theresia swore, had a song just for her. And that was why she was a knight, why she was a warrior. Her emerald eyes shift beneath her helm, regarding the old woman. “I am a warrior, a knight, good lady. A knight goes where she is needed, and I am needed here or so the song that resides within my heart is telling me. Long have I traveled, and yet no permanent place have I called a home since I was young… But perhaps the Reach is where my song will find its final verse.”  — Character Name: Theresia M. K. Kaeppler Character Race: Human  Character Age: 35 Brief Physical Description: Standing at a surprisingly medium height of 5’5”, Theresia is a bit of an enigma. Rarely does she remove her helmet, often preferring to merely lift the visor and speak calmly through the hole there; often hears her before she is seen. Beneath the armor, though, resides a woman of fine tastes. Salt and pepper hair, pepper more than salt, thick curls have been shorn back into a semi-pixie cut of sorts fall over a pale, scarred face. Deep emerald green eyes are often the first sight of the woman beneath the armor, a critical and analytical look is often within such eyes.